


Give Me a Reason

by orphan_account



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pokemon GO
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Blanche Lies, Captivity, Delusions, Everyone Has Issues, Excessively, F/F, Kidnapping, Mind Games, Minor Violence, Swearing, Team Rocket - Freeform, Threats, What Have I Done
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-08-17 03:52:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8129440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: There’s a certain beauty to annihilating everything in your path.





	1. Day One

If someone had told her earlier that year that she would be inviting Team Rocket over for a potential alliance meeting she might have torn her hair out. She also might have cackled enough to herself to provoke tears. Her? The great leader of an incorruptible organization - swooping to _their_ level?

 

Eight months into what she assumed would be a year of promise and here she was, though she couldn’t say she minded. Had it not been for the events of the days prior, Blanche might have been tempted to call this a normal afternoon. Or at least “normal” for her as of the last few months. It was easy to ignore the fact she had a rival gang in the main office part of her building if she looked back on everything she had done so recently. She would even say she had just grown numb to it. Metaphorically it was like putting your hand on a block of solid ice. It was cold, and heck, maybe it would burn, but over time you just got numb to it.

 

Numb was the perfect word to describe Blanche. She didn’t have an opinion on it anymore. She only cared about what she gained from it.

 

A few scattered Rocket trainers idled by the doors, spreading gossip about what had been heard the night prior. Blanche did her best to ignore the ugly looks and accusations being thrown her way and walked into the main congress room with her head held high. Of course, she couldn’t blame them, the rumours spread about her were as frightening as they could be. But in the end they were just that, rumours. She had been careful to cover her tracks.

 

Her heels clacked and clamoured against the clean floors as she strode past the masses. Her air of confidence blocked out the negative speech and gossip to the best of its ability and made people move out of her way. Under normal circumstances they would have kindly parted, though Blanche knew that now there was not only respect, but fear. She was a force to be reckoned with, one that would surely destroy anything in her path.

 

Blanche could tell herself that most would be too frightened to approach her, but she didn’t get far before a crooked hand was tightening on her shoulder and spinning her about. Thinking it was a grunt of hers, she got ready to give them a piece of her mind, until she came face to face with much different eyes. They didn’t belong to one of her own.

 

“Ah Blanche, what a pleasure.” The disgruntled Mystic Leader soon recognized one of the Rocket Executives from the look his eyes were giving her. Proton, if she remembered correctly. His flamboyant cyan hair made him stick out like a sore thumb in the crowd of black and dark blue, but he didn’t seem to notice nor care. He _did_ try to take Blanche’s hand and kiss it as a greeting, though she was quick to snatch it back and remind herself to be professional.

 

Proton clicked his tongue. “Feisty, as I have been told. I can’t say I’m not happy to run into you here. We were oh so happy to accept your gracious offer when you called, but I never thought you would be so,” He smirked, “Trusting. Some of my trainers would say it was foolish.” Both of them knew he was on thin ice, but a Rocket to the heart, it seemed he didn’t think twice before provoking her.

 

“Indeed, and they are the same trainers that carry around Koffing and Ekans because your program is too centred on financial gain to give them Pokemon worth a damn. I can’t say my trainers would be afraid to take them on if they got too touchy,” Blanche retorted, voice calm and collected.

 

“Touché. I can’t say that I agree with the financial situation of our quaint little group, but I’m not going to say I’ll do much about it either. That’s what partners are for, yes?” He teased, sipping what Blanche thought to be champagne. The colour was a crusty yellow far darker than the lemon coloured shades she was used to tasting. Perhaps it was beer dressed up for a fancy occasion?

 

“I would say that’s correct.” The radio on her hip spat static and she winced. “But nothing has been written on paper. Maybe you’re best to go out and be that change.” Proton laughed, ignoring the noise that had interrupted Blanche in favour of inspecting what she had just said.

 

“Maybe I should! But I’m not like you Blanche. I’m not the kind to go out and pretend to be good under a veil of bad intentions. I’m the kind that goes along with the flow and beats a grunt for slacking off.” He spoke loud enough for a few Rocket grunts to warily glance in his direction. 

 

Blanche hummed, “I think of it more as a political strategy.” Her radio tried to speak again, but she willfully ignored it. “It already has some thinking twice. I would say it won’t be too hard to convince the general public at this rate.” She tried to keep his eyes on her, but the noise distraction was enough to get the attention of at least one of them.

 

Proton tapped at her waist inappropriately. “Looks like you’ve got someone chiding you for something.” He laughed when Blanche smacked his hand away, but didn’t comment further.

 

“It doesn’t matter. One of my executives or commanders can take care of it.” Like hell they could, all of her commanders were out trying to get answers from Willow, and her executives were too busy getting drunk and schemey with the vermin still cloaking the room.

 

“Don’t be so hard on them, sometimes you got to do the dirty work. I don’t mind if you take a call.” Proton dismissed, taking a sip of whatever it was he was carrying in his hand.

 

“B-B...che! ...’ve got...uation! We’re...” Blanche relented and released the clasp holding the communication device. She lifted it close and sluggishly questioned what could have possibly been important enough to interrupt her at such a time.

 

“Leader my apologies for interrupting, but it’s involving the Valor girl. It’s not anything good.” Blanche took a good second to let it sink in before she froze, hand clutching the radio tightly.

 

Any and all assumptions of who was calling were crushed though when the voice on the other line turned out to not be a grunt or commander reporting in, but a certain supervisor with a very distinct way of rolling words that contained the letter “r” in them. 

 

Proton seemed to notice her face droop and then light up in rapid succession. “Someone you’d like to see? Have I overstayed my welcome?”

 

Blanche gave him an annoyed look. “I apologize Proton, but I must cut our meeting short. There’s urgent business that requires my upmost attention.” Hearing that voice on the other end meant only one thing, and without stopping to hear what it was the woman was reporting she walked away from the conversation. Blanche immediately hung up and made a move for the doors of the room. No one asked where she was going, and to be fair it wasn’t their business. Her apprentices would entertain them well enough while she was gone.

 

Down the winding halls and pathways she walked, until she was on one of the highest floors of the estate. The windows here showcased the beauty the height gave, but also spoke of the danger if one were to fall. Blanche had her own personal reasons for moving here, but now she wasn’t so sure. If she walked in and saw a hole in the glass she might just scream.

 

She entered the room in a haste, scaring the only one inside. There remained the one supervisor she had asked to keep an eye on the unconscious woman. She looked rather distraught, more so as Blanche got closer. The bed behind her had rumbled covers that were tossed to one side, and the clear dishevelment of her supervisor’s jacket proved there had been a struggle.

 

Blanche, strangely enough, found uncontrollable anger at the mere sight of her. She had assigned her to look after the room for one purpose in particular, but she was incompetent enough to fail at even that. She would have been up against a much weaker, more troubled woman that was sleep deprived and still recovering from a concussion, how hard could it have been to restrain her?

 

Then she reminded herself that this wasn’t the first time this had happened. Candela was resourceful and nimble, quick to get out of any tough situation. Knowing her, she would have fought with her life to get out. Blanche should just be thankful she didn’t decide to take the window (Of course she wouldn’t, unless she could fly).

 

She shouldn’t have expected anything different.

 

The supervisor nervously shuffled over to her leader, head down. She explained that Candela had woken up in the brief allotted time that Blanche had been out and locked herself in the bathroom. leaving out any details of the fight. Blanche was more than happy to see Candela was okay, but she did very much want to _see_ her. A leader that has been exposed to grievous physical and mental tampering should not be left to her own whims. 

 

Blanche nodded to the other person in the room, pointing to the door in a wordless order to leave. The supervisor nodded rapidly and then made a break for the door, her enthusiasm to leave the toxic environment evident. The leader didn’t think anything of it, and made a beeline for the bathroom door. The bottom gap of the door was not illuminated, and Blanche knew very well that there was no window either. That meant that in the time she had woke and Blanche had gotten there, Candela was sitting in the dark, thinking. A quick test of the knob revealed that it was locked from the inside, and showed no promise of faltering in her grasp anytime soon.

 

It was frustrating. Blanche had a lot to explain and persuade and time was of the essence. She needed to talk to Candela now to fix the worst of the damages that could make progression impossible. That hope slipped away with each unanswered knock and muffled cry from inside of the room. Blanche wanted to be there. She wanted to hold her close and tell her it would be okay. Her little flame had gone through too much for her to be blown out here.

 

“Candela, I know you’re in there. Please talk to me.” Blanche tenderly placed her hand on the door, finally speaking to the woman on the other side. Rather than give any notion that her presence was missed, Candela went for the opposite, and Blanche could practically feel her side of the door be lit aflame with that notorious passion.

 

“Leave me the fuck alone Blanche!” Candela shrieked, her voice raising several octaves. She savagely wailed at the door with enough despair to shake Blanche out of the calm facade she had put up, and reinforce her previous suspicions of just how hurt the other was. 

 

That didn’t mean she was willing to give up, nor take the blame for something malicious. “Don’t be like this. There’s something I have to tell you.” Blanche made a mental note to ask that supervisor what exactly she had told the distraught girl. Certainly being here again would bear mental scars, but it shouldn’t have sent her over the edge like this. There was no trigger, no engagement. Unless she had been told something she wasn’t supposed to hear, Candela should have been merely upset, not infuriated just by hearing her former friend’s voice.

 

“Save it for someone who cares!” Candela spat, stomping her foot down to execute some of her irritation and spite. 

 

Blanche spewed, “What’s gotten into you? I haven’t done anything to warrant this.” She tried to twist the knob again, and a loud bang could be heard from inside.

 

“Oh you’ve done plenty! Stop trying to play innocent with me, because it’s not working! I see you now for who you really are, a heathen!”

 

“This isn’t like before! Open the door!” Blanche screamed, a rare sight.

 

It sounded like Candela unintentionally slammed her head against the door when Blanche raised her voice. “Get away from me!” The voice cried out, backing away from the looks of it.

 

Blanche realized her mistake, and exhaled loud enough for Candela to hear. The door knob was released from the her end of the door and her weight lessened enough for the creaking to fade. “Please open the door. I’m sorry for yelling, I just need to see you,” Blanche pleaded, a majority of her previous anger dissolving in her dulcet tone.

 

“I’d rather die,” Candela declared sorely.

 

“Don’t speak like that. I don’t have any intentions of harming you.”

 

“That’s what you said the other five times you’ve come in close contact with me. You’re a brute! I’m not opening this door for you, not now, not ever!”

 

“At least let me see your face!”

 

“The minute I open that door you’re going to drag me out! I’m not stupid!” The Valor leader remarked, a hint of betrayal evident in her wavering tone.

 

“Candela-“

 

“GO AWAY!” It was spoken so close to the door that Blanche was forced to take a step back to keep her ears from ringing. If she made any sudden moves now, there would be no going back. Blanche had a choice to make now.

 

She almost made to call on her Lapras to beat the door down, but stopped herself. “Fine, **fine**. If that’s what you want, I can wait,” Blanche muttered to herself, “I’m patient.” After a long while of absolutely nothing, Blanche gave up and gave the door an exasperated kick. It didn’t budge, but she could hear Candela’s small cry of distraught from inside. She probably believed Blanche _was_ going to kick down the door and try to hurt her. It was better that she didn’t know how close Blanche to actually doing that.

 

Blanche pressed her forehead to a side wall, sighing. She didn’t want to cause her harm and she didn’t want to be the one Candela was afraid of, but how was she ever going to be able to tell her?

 

Instead of worrying herself further Blanche settled for falling back on her bed, letting the mattress take the impact harshly. She bounced on the spring before settling in the warm abyss of blankets that had become her nest. Of course, it never compared to how warm her dearest was, but it was a worthy substitute. 

 

As if to spite her, the room dropped temperature and grew evidently darker. It wasn’t because of the sun hiding between the clouds or the blinds shutting out the majority of the oncoming light, but the mere presence of a god called on by the intense emotion its muse was feeling. Blanche gave a nervous look at the door, but didn’t move to stop it.

 

From Blanche’s chest grew a cold ache that escalated in a stabbing pain. It was not intended to last long, and in a flash of light, a legend pulled its preferred form free. The god that once stood feet taller than Blanche now took on the size of a common domestic Arcanine, wings barely managing to touch the smooth ceiling. Weeks ago, Blanche would be rejuvenated by its prideful eyes and scurry away to show it the progress she had made, but now she only found contempt. It _had_ been weeks since they had last gotten along.

 

If Articuno noticed her worrisome attitude, it took no note of it. The icy legend was happy to stretch its translucent wings as it glanced about, eyes most definitely looking for something of interest. The empty room yielded no response, and that was when it looked Blanche straight in the eyes. “Where is the pretty one?”

 

“She locked herself in the bathroom,” Blanche muttered, afraid Candela would hear, “She doesn’t want to see me.” When Articuno gave her the best confused look it could muster, Blanche simply gestured in the direction of the high-standing door, still in place but with ten individual scratch marks Blanche never remembered seeing scouring down the front side of it.

 

Articuno looked in the direction that her muse was pointing and made a noise relative to a scoff. “Mortal, you mean to say you’re stopped by a flimsy blockade? I’ve given you more than enough resources to destroy it.”

 

“That’s not the problem. If I do that then she’ll fight, or worse, she’ll be terrified of me. We can’t take her on in such a state.”

 

The titan of ice had the audacity to look offended. “I could. Do not belittle me.”

 

“I’m not trying to,” Blanche snapped, “But I would appreciate getting out of this one without singed hair.” Something in the bathroom moved, and Blanche slapped a hand over her mouth. Articuno seemed to think nothing of it, and nestled into the covers on the bed.

 

“She’s too weak to do anything mortal. What difference would it make?” 

 

“ _Everything_. I’m not just looking at her, I’m looking at the bigger picture. Having her on my side is essential for being able to go further.”

 

“Murder is always a good option. I heard you humans love to do that.”

 

“I am not a murderer,” Blanche growled, likely loud enough for her company to hear. That was becoming less of a concern though, as she was more interested in getting the just deserts from one she used to respect.

 

“Oh what happened to you. You used to be so subservient.” Articuno knocked its beak on the top of Blanche’s head and scampered on down to the smooth floor. The reflective surface showed no reflection of it, and no shadow could be seen either. “What a shame. Take it from one that has lived centuries, trying to be nice only gets your talons tied. You’re better off just removing the problem and using that as leverage.” 

 

“You misunderstand what I’m trying to do. You’re the one that can’t let go of an ancient rivalry enough to-“

 

“Do not speak of things you have no knowledge on mortal. You’re worse off than I have ever been, but that’s not saying much. You and I, we are the same. And let me tell you this, if I saw Moltres, I would snap its neck on the stepping stones of my shrine. Sure, it’s pretty to look at and sweet to listen to when it sings, but there’s nothing to gain from being nice to it. It’s a dangerous flame, one that is effectively luring you in. You think you can control it, but when you unleash it on the world you’re going to have an uncontrollable wildfire. I would even go as far as to say you’re tampering and mental corruption will make her more of a threat to reckon with then you could have ever imagined. That alone should give you the ambition to cast her away. You keep trying to pretend you’re that frail little girl I met all those moons back, but you’re a different person. You’re someone that’s done terrible things and still won’t admit it. You can’t convince me that you’re still innocent.”

 

“Maybe I can’t convince you. But I can still convince her.” Blanche pointed to the door. “We can’t beat her. So why not join her. I’m not saying you have to like it, but I would imagine that it would be much easier to take down both of your enemies with one stone rather than dismantle one after the other, fearing injury.”

 

“You can try to make me understand all you want, but I remind you that human desires dominate my mind. Maybe you are right mortal, or maybe you are foolish. I suppose only time will tell.” It’s red eyes flashed menacingly. “But I can’t complain so long as both of them are gone. You keep up your deal, and I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

 

“Please do,” Blanche mumbled, listening to the sound of wandering footsteps coming from inside of the bathroom. She started to make a list in her mind of all the things that could get to the other before she did, hoping she had time on her side.

 

“She’s mortal, she will come out.” Articuno reminded her, turning its back.

 

“She’s Candela. She’d rather starve herself.”

 

“You have her back again, which means you have control. If you had done it through more, let me say, _lawful_ matters she never would have been convinced. At least now you can help her the way you know best,” Articuno leaned forward, “Even though I know some of your intentions are not exactly godly.”

 

Blanche whipped around, “I’m doing her a favour.”

 

“Keep trying to say that about yourself, _Blanche_.” The way the legend spoke of her name could only compared to nails on a chalkboard. It honestly made Blanche prefer being known as a mere mortal in its eyes.

 

Regardless, Blanche turned away and gave a distant glance at the door.

 

Articuno chuckled from behind her. “She’ll be out soon.” The colours on its back faded and dissolved, taking the form of the bird with it. The only thing it didn’t take with it that day were the seeds of doubt it had planted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Insert gratuitous Frozen reference here or something.
> 
> All jokes aside, [WHEEZES], it's done! I can't guarantee consistent updates, but you can always shoot me a message on my Tumblr [amatelaseu.tumblr.com] if you ever want to hear of how far along the next chapter is coming along. This one will probably be worse than the other two, but I suppose time will only tell. I do know that these chapters will be much shorter than the ones in Shoot Her Down, so I have more material to work with.  
> Enough about me though. Until I update again, thanks for reading!


	2. Day Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You asked for Spark and Willow, so I give you them.

The rain outside of Willow’s laboratory didn’t look to be giving up, even after drenching the building for hours. As if establishing the hopeless situation, thunder cracked once, then twice - enough to make Spark’s eyes drift away from where he had been writing down notes and poems that had been inspired by the spectacle outside. The least he could do was sigh gently, praying that there wasn’t the danger of a certain someone left outside to fend for themselves tonight.

 

A beaker in front of him glowed a pale green, several bubbles forming as a result of the added heat. Spark’s attentive eyes followed the movement, simply mesmerized by additives and the reactions that were taking place. He wouldn’t be able to to name exactly what it was they were throwing into the dangerous concoction, but he had loose knowledge of what it was the scientists were doing.

 

It was enough of a distraction to take his mind off of the skirmishes going on behind him. The noise of note jotting and Pokemon running about was evident, and if he didn’t know any better, he would assume there was chaos behind him. As if to prove him wrong, a sudden roar of a Dragonite cut through the calm atmosphere and reinforced a new resistance to the treatments it was undergoing. The sound of bonds being crushed and moved rang out in the air of the laboratory, drowning out the sound of bubbling liquid. Spark squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to think much about what they were doing to the poor creature, refusing to turn around and get a visual image of it.

 

“Amelia, please restrain the Dragonite before it hurts itself.” A calm collected voice sliced through the panic that was starting to fester, and as if clockwork, the office regained the tranquility it had been holding onto moments earlier. The sound of heels clacked around the corner, and the cries of the distressed Pokemon faded into obscurity.

 

A hand shook Spark’s shoulder, turning him away from the beaker and the burner where it was staying. The exhausted leader looked up warily to get a look at his mentor, who was fixing him with a transparent look of disappointed. Rather than comment on this, Spark simply huffed and tucked his knees in close to make himself appear smaller. The professor had better things to do than sit here and try to console him.

 

“Spark,” Willow began, the name leaving his tongue like honey, “I have reason to suspect you haven’t moved since you got here. You do know the cafeteria is always open if you need to visit it.” Not what Spark was suspecting to hear at this point, but something that reeked of Willow’s concern nonetheless. If Spark had been trying to mask his anxiety like he had been lately, then maybe he would have disguised his burning eyes with a smile and taken Willow’s advice. Now though, he remained too tired to even lift a convincing finger.

 

He rested his head on his crossed arms. “Sorry sir, I’m not hungry at the moment. Maybe later.” His eyes focused in on the boiling green potion again, trying to get back that out of world feeling he had been absorbed into earlier. Willow didn’t dismiss him immediately, and pulled a lab stool over so that he could sit down next to his apprentice. A comforting hand lightly pressed into Spark’s leather jacket as a kind gesture, but Spark didn’t take note of it. The dark shadows cast by the few glowing lights in the lab wrapped around his hand, and it caught his attention more than Willow’s shallow attempts to wrestle some kind of familiarity out of him.

 

“I can tell something is wrong. I’m not going to pressure you into telling me, but I want you to know that I’m always here to talk to you.”

 

“There’s always something wrong these days, that’s the problem. It doesn’t matter anymore sir. I don’t care anymore.”

 

Willow hummed, the noise coming off like a growl. “Yes, there’s certainly a lot of conflict now. The important thing is that you stand strong in all of this and keep your head high. You’ve got a team left to protect.”

 

“That’s more than could be said for some of us,” Spark coughed, his shoulders tensing. The hand left his back in a paced hurry, and Spark could hear the professor’s breathing catch.

 

“Well, um. That’s not something I think we want to acknowledge.” The topic hung in the air like a curse, and it tugged at Spark’s chest insistently. He had made the decision to not inform the professor of why he had visited the labs so late today because of personal fears it would be the breaking point for all of them, but the guilt was surfacing again. 

 

In the end, his restraint worn out. “Professor, that brings me to a point,” Spark cleared his throat needlessly, “It’s about Candela.”

 

“Is this something I want to hear?” Willow’s voice sounded tired.

 

“Not something you necessarily want to hear, but something you need to know of.”

 

“Mhm. Spit it out." His throat constricted, and his mouth felt dry. 

 

“I got a bit reckless and it made a fight come up,” Spark trailed off. 

 

“Please don’t tell me it got as bad as I’m thinking it is.” 

 

“She didn’t attack me or anything, but she said things that hit me a bit hard. Things about me and you that were definitely not her own words. It- I-It was-“ He caught himself stuttering and swallowed, “I was suspicious that she was going behind my back ever since we met up with those trainers. No matter what I told myself I couldn’t shake that suspicion you had planted in me, and it made me make a fatal mistake. My downfall ended up a result of me being too careful and yet at the same time, too loose. I let her go off and investigate when I shouldn’t have, but kept her so tightly wound to my side that she wilted under the lack of answers she was getting. We exploded at each as a result, and it sent her packing.”

 

Willow stayed silent for a minute, just processing the information. “She left?”

 

“I saw her leave the next day, but what puzzled me was that she called it a walk,” Spark made air quotes with his fingers, “She didn’t have her bags on her, nor anything that would leave me to believe she wasn’t coming back. You’d think she would pack up her laptop and take more than three Pokemon with her if that was the case. But then a day passed. And another. She’s still not back, and her apartment hasn’t been touched either. It’s like she’s been plucked off of the face of the earth.” The green beaker beside them popped, almost as if it realized this was Spark’s breaking point. Some of the foaming residue crept towards the opening, and Willow took the opportunity to excuse himself and remove it from the burner so that it wouldn’t overflow. Spark made himself useful by turning the heat off, still trying to avoid the professor’s eyes, which must have carried of look of pity he didn’t want.

 

“So she ran away,” Willow concluded.

 

“But she didn’t run away! If that was the case I would have stopped her, or tried to follow her. She never gave me a reason to think she was- okay, maybe that’s not true. But I put a lot of trust in her. Yet it seemed no matter what I said or what I did, she just couldn’t let go of her sympathy.”

 

Pinching his nose, Willow sat down. “It’s as I said Spark, she always had the ability to side with Blanche. It’s the kind of person she is, and Blanche knows it. That’s why I told you to keep quiet.”

 

Spark sputtered, discomfort evident on his face. “But she ran away _because_ we didn’t tell her anything! I keep thinking about how we could have avoided this, and it all comes back to us telling her what was going on.”

 

“It would have been a weakness they could exploit against us. It wouldn’t have made a difference, regardless of what you think. Trust me on this one.”

 

“I have been trusting you,” Spark stood up and crossed his arms, fighting to keep his voice down for the other scientists, “But look where we are now. Why didn’t we just settle this conflict with Blanche early on? Why not just take her out of such a compromising situation when she was still reachable? Am I just looking too far into this, or was there an easier way to handle this without splitting up one of the teams, disbanding another, and leaving one to fend for itself?” Willow winced, hands leaving the lab equipment he had been fiddling with.

 

“There was a personal conflict with me and Blanche. She grew too delusional to be reasoned with Spark, you know about that. You saw firsthand that no matter what I said, she would ignore me and throw a hissy fit. Her mind works in a different way, and yes, it brought up problems,” He removed his glasses and placed them on the top of his head, “It was a personal vendetta. There was nothing she wouldn’t do to get back at me.”

 

“I refuse to believe she would see us as pawns to get back at you with. I’ve known her longer than you have.” Spark grunted, anger growing in his tone with each word.

 

Willow sucked in a breath, trying to keep collected. “Then maybe she’s not the same person you remember. When it comes to people like her - people that will hurt others to benefit themselves - you need to take a different approach. If she wants to turn our own leaders against us and take me out of office because she thinks I’m doing something wrong, then we need to address it on a personal level. If she wants to use Pokemon as weapons and dismantle our program, then we need to treat her like a problem to society.”

 

The Instinct Leader exhaled softly, one of his hands rubbing his wrist in a circular motion. Willow continued, “It wouldn’t be as bad if she didn’t have a backing force of hundreds of impressionable youth, but that’s unfortunately what the stakes have come to.”  Deep down, Spark knew Willow was right. The hands of his best friend that had been so eager to help him evolve his Eevee would now tear him to pieces if given incentive, and as much as he wanted to assure himself that no one was in danger, he couldn’t ignore the issue.

 

It still didn’t make him feel good. He would never quit feeling like a failure to not one, but two friends. He had the chance to stop both of them from sinking, but chose to take the high ground and hope they sorted it out themselves. He ignored the problem, and now one of the friends was latching onto the other’s leg to bring them down to their level.

 

The thought made him felt sick, and he made to bend over and collect his thoughts. Willow was there before he could, and gently led him away from the lab counters and curious scientists that had been observing the exchange. Spark couldn’t help himself, and leaned on Willow’s arm as they took to the hallway. At this point, he could care less what people thought of his behaviour. He had one role model left, and he wasn’t intent on losing them. Not like..

 

“We’re close to finding an antidote, you know.” Willow interrupted his thoughts, tightening his grip on his apprentice’s shoulder. “You won’t have to think about this anymore. We’re going to be okay.”

 

Spark closed his eyes. “That’s... good. The sooner everything gets back to normal, the better.” An uncomfortable feeling cloaked them, and neither close to comment more on the statement. Both of them knew very well that they wouldn’t bounce back from this like they had with previous issues. It would end up with Blanche being arrested for criminal activity and Candela, if they did find her, separating herself from the three of them. _It would never be the same._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went though a midlife crisis when I was writing this. I thought most people would be a bit reluctant to see more or just lost interest, but some of you came to talk to me on Tumblr, and I just want you to know you made my day. Let's all hope and pray my motivation lets me continue this!  
> (ps : Spark and Willow are very boring. Let's go back to Candela and Blanche soon)


	3. Day Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you believe this chapter is inspired by the time I accidentally locked myself in the bathroom for five hours.

Okay, it was a bad idea to lock herself in the bathroom.

 

At the time of first regaining consciousness, it seemed like a good idea. She was cornered in by what was a hostile stranger in an unfamiliar location after just waking up from a bone-chilling set of nightmares. She thought it was what a sane person would do if caught in such a situation, especially after finding a door that could lock only a few feet away from where the bed was.

 

But, as always, it was too good to be true. Candela had been in the room for what she felt were days, and the problems with her mental and physical state were starting to add up. Now that she was given the proper time to ponder on it, she finally accepted that her split second decision may not have been the brightest.

 

Her physical state had only gotten worse over the duration of her stay; her left arm felt like it was _burning_ and would itch no matter how hard she scratched. She was feeling unmeasurable amounts of anger and _she didn’t know why_ , and coupled with emotional baggage from events the days prior she was having trouble coping.

 

 It wasn’t like her basic needs were met either; though the room had a fresh source of water coming from the tap, there was no reliable way to get food. It was damp and dark, and her Pokemon had been removed from her (again). She was cut off from everything she knew, and though she’d never admit it out loud, she was completely broken down from the stress alone.

 

All of the problems were burdens on her without a doubt, but they were all minor conveniences when Candela took into account the noise problem. No, it wasn’t because she had loud neighbours - heck when she _did_ hear someone it was normally their quiet footsteps as they walked through what she assumed was a hallway - but because of a certain _other_ person. One who wouldn’t leave her alone as easily.

 

She should have guessed that Blanche wasn’t going to give up after one argument. Oh no, that would be an insult to Blanche’s newly gained persistence. Though to give her very little credit, Blanche hadn’t kicked the door down, nor had she went around the barrier in some other way. That of course, was a surprise. Every action she had taken prior to this proved that Blanche was an efficient worker, and one that wasn’t afraid to break social norms to get what she wanted.

 

But Candela didn’t find the door broken down, nor did she find Blanche present in the room when she dared to open her eyes again either. The woman in question seemed happy to just sit on the other side of the door and talk on, and on, and on. Much of it wasn’t any useful information, just daily occurrences Blanche felt inclined to tell her about. 

 

Her paranoia was quick to come up with her fate just by looking at her situation. Candela was trapped in a room she couldn’t escape from, and Blanche could be heard from outside no matter where Candela was in the room. That scenario alone had so much potential to be a malicious problem because Blanche wasn’t an idiot. She was a well acclaimed scientist that by now had months of experience manipulating people to do what she wanted them to.

 

There was also the issue that Candela’s allegiances were already crumbling, and it seemed everyone she came in contact with was betraying her. She didn’t have the strength to hate or trust anymore, especially when the burdens of doing so choked her to this very moment. What little fury she had conjured before burnt up not long after Blanche had been subject to her screaming, and she feared that if something happened she would merely break down.

 

However, the Mystic leader didn’t follow up on what Candela thought would be the perfect plan of attack. Her conversations never provoked any kind of danger or sense of doubt, and to Candela, it was confusing. She was ripe for the taking, literally stuck in the same position she was a month ago, but Blanche wasn’t acting on it. She was just sitting there as if nothing was wrong, like nothing had happened between them.

 

The combined efforts of both the topic of Blanche and her inner suffering made sitting there even more unbearable, but in a last ditch promise (and apology) to Spark, she refused to give herself up so easily.

 

Sadly, it seemed each new day brought reluctance to follow through on that promise.

 

This was the morning she had finally found the strength to move, but only after a restless sleep consisting of her best interpretation of a fever dream. The room was not lit up by the ceiling light, but was still very visible, leading her to suspect it was late in the morning, maybe even afternoon. 

 

There was no sign of Blanche having her back against the door, but Candela didn’t want to take a chance. If this had played out in the other room her stubbornness to remain unseen might have been because she was afraid of what Blanche might do to her. If the other didn’t know she was awake, she wouldn’t visit, and that was her best chance of survival. Now all that remained was fear - fear that if she heard Blanche again she would be tempted to lay down her arms and just accept whatever punishments the gods above had dished out to her.

 

Drawing her knees close, she made an attempt to stand up by using the door as her crutch. There was no motivation to do anything when she knew there was no way out. It was the same old things she had seen on her first day of being here, albeit, with much blurrier vision this time. A few vents no longer than the width of her arm and sealed walls with no evidence of breaking anytime soon remained in place and were still bugging her. Candela fought to keep her breath steady and mind unfocused, not letting the slow impending doom trap her in a state of panic. (Who was she kidding though - she was stuck here until fate turned her in or she kicked the bucket)

 

Still fuzzy, her mind drifted off into dreamland, notable questions rearing their heads. 

 

Was Spark doing alright? Probably not. She left him without a word of where she was going. He was probably tearing apart the house looking for her, only to realize the inevitable. It was a crushing blow, and made her regret ever leaving in the first place. 

 

Would her team pull through without her? They would. They were her pride and joy after all, and if they knew something was wrong they would fight, regardless of her absence. Regardless of who the enemy was, or wasn’t.

 

Could it be possible that Blanche was _actually_ telling the truth this time?

 

...

 

She didn’t want to think about that. Either Blanche was lying again and Candela’s punishment fit her crime, or it had been Willow that was the source of all their problems. 

 

She, no, _the whole country_ were being played for fools, according to Blanche. That was what kept her at the edge of her seat. The possibility that she had miscalculated the entire thing and that she was treating her only ally like an enemy...

 

Her stomach felt queasy, but not in a sick kind of way. Any thoughts of food or getting out of here were squandered in favour of getting around and _moving_. She had to move, she had to get away from the door if it was the last thing she did. To her, it was simply a metaphor for what was to come, and what mistake she may be making. Candela was stuck in the mindset that Blanche could be anything but someone that looked out for her best interests, and anything that challenged that made her more and more conflicted. It was much simpler back when she took one side and wasn’t asked to look into the validity of the side she chose.

 

She rubbed her eyes perhaps a bit harder than she needed to, brushing her hair back with a single hand and keeping it pinned there. It felt like she was burning alive, with the heat only intensifying by the minute. Her breath caught in her throat, and began to get laboured under her drilling thoughts, but even then she didn’t stop. If anything, she walked faster, following a circular path again and again as her mind scrambled to make sense of what he had said.

 

It wasn’t until she had gotten over the brink of her panic that her eyes finally focused in on the problem. Her mind went back to what Blanche had been talking about the other day. Now her motivations turned on its side, and more than ever she wanted the Mystic leader there at the door, if only to have someone to scream at. Blanche’s company wasn’t welcome but it was company nonetheless, and without someone there it was haunting and lonely.

 

Well Blanche wasn’t there, but some part of her was.

 

Candela’s eyes looked up to one of the articles of clothing that had caught her eyes on the first day she got here. At the time, her indescribable anger had almost driven her to rip it to shreds, but now the empty pit where her heart should be could only ache. It was a folded cloth bent over a towel rack, but it didn’t take too long of a look to deem it out of place. The light shade of blue didn’t blend in with the darker walls, and there was no mistaking the purple accents on the collar. Like a moth to a flame, she was drawn over, her unsteady legs stumbling over the hard tile. 

 

Her hands met the fabric unassured, but grasped on tighter when they recognized the familiar cloth. It was one of Blanche’s old jackets, the one that she had worn for conferences and day to day work outside of the labs. It had to have been weeks or even months since she saw the Team Mystic leader wear it, and the mere sight of it brought back memories she had been trying to ignore up until now.

 

She brought it up to her face and buried her face in it, holding back tears. It _smelt_ like Blanche. The bitter and snappish smell of pine and what Candela could only describe as peppermint that the woman she knew now carried was no more, and instead was replaced with the more calming scent of lavender candle. With it was the slightest hint of vanilla, which Candela recalled Blanche always carried with her.

 

The smell brought her back to better times, the calm before the storm. Candela had little ways of knowing if Blanche had always been like this and she didn’t know, or if this was a new phase her former friend was going through. It seemed unlikely that Blanche could have ever been anything but a good friend up until she started arguing with Willow, but to Candela anything was possible.

 

Technically speaking, she should have damned her earlier. But she didn’t. And as much as she believed that she should hate her ex-friend with all of her being, some of the pieces didn’t fall into place.

 

What had conspired her to meet Blanche that afternoon, depravity? Had she truly believed that one person would be able to change the mind of someone likely far gone? Maybe she did, maybe that’s why she took Giselle’s advice and reached out to someone that had no business knowing where she was. Blanche may have been caught in her delusions, but Candela was drowning in them. 

 

“Shit,” She mumbled, “I really am an idiot.”

 

And yet, even there trapped in that room she still found a twisted sense of comfort when Blanche would sit against the door on the other side and mumble annoyances to her. She tried to find bitterness to spit at her, but despite it being easy to tell Blanche to shut up, she couldn’t actually bring herself to fully hate her. A part of Blanche remained fully rooted in her, and the idea of corruption in the league and the program they were actively participating in never faded. Some things made sense when Blanche would elaborate on them, as much as she hated to admit it.

 

Candela slid down against the wall, clutching the blue jacket close to her face as her eyes prickled with emotion. She stayed that way, simply looking over all that had conspired that summer until Blanche returned that evening. The sound of the front door being unlocked and opened shook her out of the funk she had stumbled into and replaced it with raw panic.

 

With wariness, she waited as Blanche shuffled around objects in the room. The distant noise of paper being sorted through remained for a good minute or so until the other leader sighed and sat down. Candela, who was leaning back to be able to hear better, slipped back and had her shoulders make contact with the door roughly.

 

There was a brief moment of silence before the noise of heels came closer, and the shuffle of fabric indicated Blanche’s return to her spot against the door. The wood behind Candela chilled considerably as the two sank into the familiar tension. This time however, it was a matter of who would break the ice first. Blanche seemed to know that Candela was starting to have second thoughts, that or she was being mysteriously quiet today.

 

Candela made a valiant attempt to hold her tongue, she really did, but in the end her day spent doing nothing but thinking and dwelling on the past had worn her down much more than expected.

 

“Damn it Blanche.” Candela latched onto a few strands of hair that dipped past her forehead and tugged. “Why I am here. Why are you doing this to me.” Her voice was rough and scratchy, betraying her weakened state.

 

“I believe I already told you those things, on the second day you were here.” Candela blinked. She didn’t remember Blanche talking anything about her motives, but then again, she was still a bit too angry to listen to reason at the time. 

 

“Please tell me again.” It was no more than a whisper, a quiet plead for something to latch on to.

 

“How about we do an exchange. I’ll repeat what I said if you want to tell me why you won’t come out,” Blanche asked, little bits of humour sprinkling her tone. It was much different from the woman she had listened to before, and rather than be intimidating, it was intriguing. Blanche was up to something, maybe trying a different approach? 

 

The Valor leader hastily looked down, releasing her hair and hissing at the sting that remained. “I’m here because I refuse to let myself be hurt by you again.” It sounded better in her head, but the words were still true. Blanche seemed to take in her raspy tone with patience, humming to herself.

 

“I still don’t know what I’ve done to merit this though. You weren’t acting this way when we met up in the park.”

 

“Because back in the park I had some hope for you. I thought what you were saying was the truth, and I bought into it. A part of me believed there was still some trace of the Blanche I knew, the woman wasn’t afraid to do a little wrong for some kind of good. All you’ve proven by bringing me here is that you haven’t changed, and my first impressions were right. I should have never come back.”

 

Blanche clicked her tongue. “But it’s as I told you, I had no intention of keeping you here.”

 

“Yeah, and just the other day, I saw a Dragonite get beaten up by a Rattata.”

 

“I’m being serious Candela,” Blanche’s voice hardened, “You’re not here because I’m trying to protect you with my own delusions. You fainted in my arms and wouldn’t get up. I think that requires some kind of attention.”

 

“So bring me home, or better yet, bring me to a hospital. Either would have worked fine.”

 

“Bring an unconscious girl that fainted from unknown circumstances to her home and then leave her alone, tell that one to the professor. I wasn’t going to risk it. And hey, according to Willow, I’m a wanted criminal. He’ll do anything to ensure that I’m taken out of power, so I’m not able to just walk into a hospital with a limp girl in my arms and walk out the same person. I would be accused of being the one that hurt you, and while I don’t care what Willow says about me, I refuse to ever be linked to harming you.” Blanche inhaled sharply, letting her words sink in. “As for you being kept prisoner, that’s your choice to make. You’re allowed to come out of that room and leave this building whenever you want to - as long as you let me check up on you first.”

 

A cough escaped Candela, but she didn’t speak up about it. She also tried not to look too much into what Blanche had said, courtesy of what happened last time she sunk too much thought into a particular topic.

 

“Do you know why I passed out...?”

 

“They believe it was a dangerous concoction of insomnia and a concussion that was left untreated. I would say a stroke of bad luck, divine intervention if you will.” 

 

The topic of “they” was something interesting, but what was said after caught her attention more. “What makes you say that?” 

 

“I think it was about time you just rest and stop thinking about this civil war that’s going on. It was clearly taking its toll on your health,” Blanche declared, matter of factly. “I will admit I could tell something bad would play out when you started making more of an effort to talk to me. The Candela I know would have waited longer, been a bit more skeptical. It worried me.”

 

Candela licked her bottom lip. “I would fight with tooth and nail if it was Team Rocket bursting down those doors. It’s different when you’re against friends. You lose that fire that made you fight. I guess you could say I became a lot like you, doing detective work and waiting for a reason to fight,” Candela admitted, tilting her head in the direction of the door so that her cheek met the cooling surface.

 

“Oh believe me, I know that feeling all too well. I was stuck in purgatory when Willow and I first started biting at each other. I spent a long while just thinking whether or not I was in the right to reveal him, and if it was worth risking my reputation. We all know how that turned out.” The topic of revealing Willow was brought up again, and Candela made a mental note to ask about it if she got the chance later. She had a feeling that trying to talk Blanche into coughing up information now wouldn’t end up good for either of them.

 

A pair of fingers appeared from underneath the door, not gloved, and very familiar. Candela studied them for a brief moment, taking in the perfectly manicured appearance that gave away Blanche’s need for aesthetics. When nothing happened, she let her fingers brush her friend’s own, all while holding onto the jacket with her other hand.

 

She let out a humourless laugh, looking down at her lap once she grew tired of staring at the motionless wood of the door. “We’re both knee deep in this mess, that’s easily said.” 

 

“Indeed. My only regret was letting you fall with me. For that, I apologize, I didn’t have any intention of doing this to you. It was my ignorance that blinded me back there, and now I’m just trying to make up for my mistakes.”

 

“No need to go all self sacrificial, you said this last time we met up. I get it.” She drummed her fingers, the ones closest to Blanche’s, on the tile. “For the record though, actions speak louder than words, and a part of me is convinced that the minute I step out all of this nice facade will go away. You’ve given me no reason to think otherwise.”

 

“There’s nothing I can say that will convince you otherwise, so I won’t try and justify anything. You come out in your own time, and then we can talk about what happens next.”

 

“Blanche.” The word left Candela’s lips without provocation, and only half interrupted the ranting Blanche.

 

“Yes?”

 

“I just-“ She stopped herself, her courage fading quickly once she had Blanche’s full attention. “Nevermind, it’s not important.”

 

“You sure? I’ve been talking a lot. If you have something to say-”

 

“I just wanted your opinion.”

 

“Sure sure, ask away.” Candela could hear the smile in her voice.

 

“Do you think I’m acting foolishly?” It was a bit of a loaded question, and one she didn’t expect Blanche to answer right away. 

 

The other one hummed thoughtfully. “Considering who you are and what you’ve been through, I wouldn’t say you’re acting too out of line. I still don’t agree you should be starving yourself, but if staying on that side of the door makes you feel safe then I have nothing to say against that. You can come out when you want to, and despite what I said on Monday I don’t want you to feel obligated to take my side.”

 

“Isn’t that what you’ve been asking me to do for months now?”

 

“In some ways yes, but locking you away isn’t the answer. I just want you to be happy.” Happy. That was almost a bit hard to believe. Her mind gently pushed the memory of Blanche screaming at her on the day she had woken up as if to prove some kind of point.

 

Maybe she was blind to who Blanche was, or maybe her hunger was acting like her warden. Either way, she felt another wave of nausea wash up when a part of her mind begged for Blanche to just break the door down already. It was probably simpler that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait guys. Thanksgiving kind of slowed me down, haha. I actually proofread this at dinner while we were waiting on family.  
> If you see any continuity errors, feel free to point them out. This chapter went through five different plotlines and I reused some elements again in the final version. I bet there's some kind of choppy editing in there somewhere, but I'm probably only going to find it a week from now in the dead of night.
> 
> That being said, thank you all for reading and commenting! I mean it when I say you all brighten my day. :]


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